


Valkyrie

by Anonymous



Series: The Anglo-Prussian Relations [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Historical Canon, M/M, Smoking, World War II, assassination plots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-11-10
Packaged: 2017-12-31 23:05:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1037454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>England met someone unexpectedly one night while stationed in an old inn in Berghof.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Valkyrie

**Author's Note:**

> Established PruEng.

England could feel a headache forming between his eyes. He had to get out of the meeting room with the SOE officials, otherwise he would have marched off to the bloody Kraut wearing the blasted bombs and shoot the man’s brains off himself, Germany be damned.

He took a deep breath of the cool summer air. It was a fine night in July and England indulged the urge to smoke. He bought out his pack of cigarettes and picked one, placing the stick of nicotine between his lips before storing the container. He bought out his lighter next and covered the tongue of flame that flickered to life, lighting the cigarette before taking a deep breath and enjoyed the taste of bitter smoke.

“Just in case your plan doesn’t work, I have an awesome back-up plan.” England almost jumped out of his skin.

He whipped his body to the side and green eyes widened in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“Why hello to you too.” There stood Prussia, his snow-white hair almost gold under the reflection of the streetlight. He was wearing a large grin and his hands were inside his pockets. England blinked, a little unused to seeing his fellow nation out of the blue and black uniform. He wore a white button-shirt and a pair of brown trousers instead. Prussia would have been unremarkable if not for his silvery hair and crimson eyes.

England sighed and retrieved his box of cigarettes and held it out to the other man. “Want one?”

Prussia shrugged and took one, waiting for the blond nation to store the box and light up the roll he placed between his lips.

They were silent for a few moments, simply enjoying the breeze, or they would have liked to believe so.

England would have thought Prussia to be calm if not for the trembling shifts between tautness and relaxation in the Prussian’s shoulders.

“How are your brothers?” Prussia asked out of the blue.

England closed his eyes and thought of Scotland and Scots marching in France, of Wales riding one of the many planes that dropped bombs in German forts after German forts, of North Ireland directing his people to produce more weapons - more firepower, and of South (but South hates being called South now, he’s Republic of Ireland now) waiting for hours at sea.

“They’re holding up,” England replied with a shrug. He was grateful that Prussia did not pry.

Things were tense between them, Germany was losing the war, after almost a decade of his leader’s nightmarish lust for power as the country expanded territories. Prussia… Prussia smiled and grinned from the other side of the battlefield, even if he carried messages from his aristocracy that asked for help or told the Allies of what the madman of Europe was planning or where he would go or where he would be vulnerable the most.

Prussia wondered if people would acknowledge that it was him and his people were the first to hate the Nazi regime.

Looking at England… Prussia can’t help but wonder how terrifying the vengeance the blond nation would bring unto his brother, if there would even be anything to pick up after the war is over. It wasn’t just England here whose blood burned with vengeance, there was Poland, France, Lithuania, and the Nords too. Perhaps… Germany won’t…

Prussia took a deep breath, exhaling a thick puff of smoke, and tried not to think too much of what will happen to his younger brother, he had another matter to worry about. One that involved the Brit with him on this night.

“He’ll be in Wolf’s Lair in a few days time, so I suggest you hurry up whatever you and your people are planning.” England turned to Prussia with a grim expression.

“We’re not even sure it’ll work. We’re not even sure if it’s the right thing. It’s hard to find an ideal location for our sniper to hide, and our window of opportunity is far too narrow to be truly successful.” England took a long drag in irritation. “Perhaps if you could get one of your own…”

“I can’t. We’re… there’s something big that’s going to happen, and everyone is making sure it goes smoothly.” Prussia did not meet England’s gaze.

England, on the other hand, knew Prussia long enough to know that there was something that troubled the fellow nation.

“Is there a reason for your visit? I would have thought you would be in Wolf’s Lair by now to prepare.”

Prussia’s lips quirked into a smile. “Can you hold off the attempt then?”

England blinked. “What? What was the encouraging choice of words was about then?”

THe white-haired man made a frustrated noise then.

In that moment, Prussia looked just as confused and lost as the rest of the world was.

“It’s- Damn. We had been planning and planning and made a lot of attempts! Heck, even Germany’s people are helping us, but it’s getting harder and harder to find an opportunity to kill the damned bastard!”

Prussia ran a hand against his hair in frustration, slumping against the wall. “Germany doesn’t even know, but hey, maybe he has an inkling that things are going on behind his back, but he sure as hell doesn’t know I’m involved at all.”

Silence lingered between them.

Things were already complicated long before all the shit led to the war. Prussia supposed he was part to blame because he was a little too greedy when it came to Poland’s territories, so by the time he asked (and some of his men) for help, the Nazi party was already marching across Europe, spreading terror. Perhaps a century ago, Prussia would have gladly marched on, but now? He’s tired and exhausted, and all he can do is hope and pray that even just Germany survived this. He’d give his own life if he needed to.

“You know… when you first asked for help, I was a little surprised. I mean, you were you and I would have thought that the prospect of taking Poland’s territories would have appealed,” England smiled humorlessly, “turns out, you were the first to sense danger and want us to stop your own brother.”

England thought back to his own brothers, to South Ireland and Scotland and America. He fought them, but never behind their back, but somehow it was different with them. Centuries ago, their battles were just for independence and culture and territories. America fought for his freedom and against unfair taxes, Scotland fought to preserve his people’s culture and identity as did Ireland. Germany…

England wasn’t even sure anymore what they were fighting for. They were just moving through the motions of gunfire and aerial bombings and pillaging land and moving forward and stumbling and hoping that this war just fucking ends.

Prussia grinned. “I’m awesome just like that.”

England rolled his eyes and socked Prussia in mock-anger, a little touched that the man lightened up the mood just a little. “Don’t ruin the moment.”

England wondered how things could have been if Frederick III had not died 99 days after ascending the throne. England believed with absolute certainty that things would have been different between him and Prussia. Things were wonderful upon the closing years of the nineteenth century between him and Prussia, and England was already world-weary from the war and wished for a quieter life.

Maybe, maybe…

He shook his head, trying not to think of possibilities that shall no longer pass. England took one final drag of his cigarette before dropping it on the ground and crushing it.

“I suppose I should take my leave then.” England straightened his clothes (he made a point to wear something simple tonight to avoid attracting attention. The damn bastard was already paranoid enough, and England didn’t want to give his enemies any more clues that perhaps Berghof was not as safe as it really was.)

The blond was about to walk away when he felt a cold hand reach for his arm. “Gilb—”

England’s protests were miffled when he felt a pair of lips against his, and England had to tilt his head just to avoid smashing noses with Prussia as he was pulled into a kiss. Green eyes closed at the familiar motion and the man reciprocated the gesture.

Prussia’s lips were chapped and tasted of nicotine, and England’s hands snaked behind Prussia’s head to pull him closer into the kiss. Prussia’s tongue darted over England’s lips for permission and the blond opened his mouth in invitation. Their kiss was long and needy, desperate and longing.

Then finally, finally, Prussia pulled away, panting. His pale cheeks were flushed and his pupils were blown wide and left a thin ring of his irises visible. England was panting and his breaths were long and deeper than Prussia’s shorter and quicker inhales.

“When all of this… After all of this is done… Things won’t be alright. Everyone will go after Germany, but his people - his officials - they idolized mine too much. When worst comes to worst… What you are going to do to Germany… to Ludwig, whatever punishment he’s going to get, I want to take it in his stead.”

England’s eyes widened and he stepped back. “No!”

Prussia smiled wryly and shook his head. “It has to be… He’s… he’s young and… he’s my brother.”

Then England realized that perhaps this was not Prussia concerned with the welfare of his Reich he was talking to, but it was Gilbert who was worried about what will happen to Ludwig who was still young yet large but with an impending promise of doom hanging behind his back.

Then England  - Arthur - glanced away. He was a selfish man, and so was Gilbert. That was many of the reasons why they got along so well.

Right now, Arthur missed Gilbert dearly.

“Gilbert… I… You can’t ask that from me.”

Gilbert held Arthur’s chin and tilted the blond’s head so that they made eye contact.

“I know you’d do the same for your brothers. For America - Alfred, for your idiot older brothers… Even if Scottie is an arse.”

Arthur snorted, but he quickly schooled his expression into a more serious one. “What about you? Don’t you care that you’ll leave Ludwig alone? Don’t you care that you won’t ever see Francis and Antonio ever again?”

Don’t you want to stay with me?

Gilbert grinned, and Arthur wanted to slap him because this was a war where no one was going to come back. This war was full of absolutions and gunfire and the dying screams in the air. It won’t be easy. Gilbert - Prussia - will be torn apart.

“I do care, it’s not easy making this decision, you know? But… yeah, I won’t fade. Trust me, please.” Gilbert’s red eyes were solemn and serious, his cool hands around Arthur’s shoulders.

Arthur could feel his heart in his throat, and he glanced away. He had been trusting Gilbert for years. He was there when Gilbert came charging into his office with Franz Halder one day, it was something England - Arthur - could never forget. England did what it can to support Prussia in its attempt to keep the madman from gaining foothold, but it was too late for anything.

But now… Now… Perhaps there was hope.

Arthur grasped it with greedy and desperate fingers, held it tight against his chest and prayed.

“Alright… I trust you.”

Gilbert’s face broke into a happy smile and he pulled Arthur into a tight hug. There was desperation in that embrace and Arthur wholeheartedly returned the gesture.

There was something like hope in that embrace too.

Perhaps, their reunion when -when, not if, because it was without a doubt that this horrible, horrible war will end - it would be something of warriors descending from the heavens bringing vengeance and justice in stomping hooves and cries.

Or maybe this war ends with grim-faced soldiers marching into the capital, weary and tired and longing for peace and home, carrying agreements of peace and promises of forgiveness and rebuilding.

Maybe the war will end with the death of a madman, of people finally able to breath a sigh of relief and grieve for the horrors a madman unleashed and hoped for forgiveness as they tried their best to bring things into order once more.

Maybe, maybe, maybe…

But now, Arthur was simply content holding Gilbert in this embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> Contrary to popular belief, Prussian aristocracy hated Hitler. Many of the assassination attempts were concocted by those guys. Of course, the Gestapo, the SS, and Goebbles had no idea until Operation Valkyrie in Wolfsschanze, East Prussia on July 20, 1944.
> 
> The Abwher were briefly referenced. They were sort of the German SOE, since WWI, and they were against the Nazi party. They were very disgusted with Hitler’s actions and they leaked vital information to the British Forces.
> 
> Then there’s Frederick III totally wanted to make Prussia’s government system similar to the British Empire’s, so yeah… So much historical canon love~ <3
> 
> So yeah, even in World War II, Prussia and England still love each other very much. So, any thoughts? Please tell me what you think, and please point out if I missed any errors! Thank you!
> 
> Edit: Additional info - this was set around the stages of planning Operation Foxley. British SOE agents were planning on assassinating Hitler before he leaves Berghof. It was scrapped because the SOE were worried about the aftermath, which they believed would have made Hitler a martyr in the eyes of Germany, that and they were worried someone worse will replace Hitler. However, things were aparent that the opposite would be the case later on, but it was too late because Hitler left Berghof unexpectedly and never came back.


End file.
